Archive for January, 2013

This is the funniest thing that has happened to me in a while. Do you ever wonder how those weird search results pop up on Google when you enter something innocuous like:

Well, I have some idea after today. Things you need to know about this story. Larry is my dog. Larry is small and old. Larry sleeps in my bed. Larry is a dick.

I woke up at 4am due to Larry doing the low, old man growl that he does when he needs to do something: eat, drink, poo, pee, question my God, you know, the usual. I stepped out of bed and almost tripped on the dress shoes that I had left next to the bed last night, wrapped myself up in the fleece robe that I got for Christmas (Thanks Mom!), and took him out. He peed. I set him down at his water bowl and I waited for him to finish drinking. LITERALLY FOUR MINUTES LATER. Four minutes at 4am is like an hour at 7pm. I put him back in bed and I pass right the hell back out. Cut to 8am, the low, old man growl yet again.

I pick him up and have him in a football style hold as usual and I’m looking around to see what time it is/where my shoes are/where I left my robe. I’m standing there with him for probably 10 seconds, and I find everything I need and head for the door. I set him down outside and he immediately Lindsay Lohan’d all over the ground. (I’m going to start calling poop “Lindsay Lohan”, because let’s face it, it’s true.) So normally this is business as usual, but I noticed that as he was Lohan-ing, his back legs were shaking….annnnnnd breaking news, Larry sat in his own poo. It was a bit messy.

I bring Larry back inside and start the bath water, grab the doggy shampoo, and realize that it’s about 3 minutes after I woke up and this is currently my life. #swag

I go into my room to take my shoes off and I look down to see a three little hard droplets of dog shit. I realize that when I was holding Larry and looking for my robe, he was dropping bombs on my hardwood floor. I had to laugh. I clean that up and go back to bathe Lawrence, everything is fine and dandy. Except it’s not. As I’m drying Larry off and putting him back on the bed, I look down and notice something. The fourth shot he took out of his poo cannon was a DIRECT hit, nothing but the bottom of the net, bullseye, straight into my right dress shoe.

So the next time you type, “How” into Google…maybe, just maybe, you’ll see: “How do you clean dog poop out of the inside of a dress shoe.”